Blackout a finalist for 2018 Auburn Witness Poetry Prize Honoring Jake Adam York

Hello World!

[here]
it's [08:45]
let me have a minute
I'm thinking about [Jackie Kennedy]
riding in that Texas car
and [she was trying to scrape a spec of blood off her jacket]
and [she was crawling on the trunk of a bullet riddled limousine]
and [she was sticking her fingers into the holes] feeling the sores
unable to change a single fleck [since she was alive]
and [everything moving around her] was dead

nowadays
things are [automated]
you can go to a [supermarket] and watch
potatoes tumble in [sudden] [jerks] of rubber belts
pulled along horizontal cities of [cereal] boxes
of [self-designed wheat from some remote hallucination of farming]
of [soup cans tossed along rivers of code] of [streams of signals]
of [if] [commands] in the relentless flow of choice and desire

I was born a town
[now I am a city]
my streets were movies of [singing policemen] and [lonesome cowboys]
and [space girls] and [aliens] and [robots] and [monsters]
and [gangsters] and [men in drag] and [ladies in waiting]
and [cars exploding] and [shooting] and [laughing] and [off-camera loving]
and [I watched it all in temporary forgiveness]
chained as any Platonic cyborg
to [my seat] with you
and [I heard] you asking {"what time is it?"}
and [I could not answer]
even though we keep returning
to [another fleeing minute]
and now it's [08:46] already